


You Can Run Away With Me Any Time You Want

by Telas_Selar



Category: Star Trek: Picard
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Carrying, Cristóbal Rios has PTSD, Crying Agnes Jurati, Gentleness, Hair Washing, Hurt/Comfort, I have the proof right here, M/M, Married!Syrios, POW S'vec Sylar, S'vec Sylar has PTSD, Sharing Clothes, Sylar cares so much about Agnes Your Honor, vulcan strength
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:01:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27405448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telas_Selar/pseuds/Telas_Selar
Summary: A shaken Agnes breaks down. Sylar takes care of her.
Relationships: Agnes Jurati & S'vec Sylar, Cristóbal Rios/S'vec Sylar
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Talvenhenki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talvenhenki/gifts).



Agnes Jurati didn’t know what had set her off.

Maybe it was all the quiet after their destination had changed from Coppelius to Vulcan, (a deep, stifling silence that made her want to scream for reasons she couldn’t quite fathom) or maybe it was some other trigger of which she was, as of yet, unaware, but regardless of the source, it was unpleasant - then intolerable. Intolerable to the degree where her small frame shook with suppressed sobs, and her fingertips burned white-hot, prickling from the loss of circulation as she curled them into fists. Suddenly she wasn’t hyper alert anymore, she just wanted to cry until the pain stopped, but she couldn’t - she couldn’t do that because Emil would activate and ask questions and-

The young woman took a deep, shuddering breath and forced her legs to work. This wouldn’t do. Not here, not now. She couldn’t let this happen where someone could see, where they could judge her and talk about her and- no. No they weren’t like that. But they’d all gotten so upset at her so fast after the ordeal with the tracker that she couldn’t tell them. Then they’d probably stop being nice to her all over again and she didn’t think she could handle that again, having no friendly face in a crowd of people pointing fingers, even if the circumstances were different now.

Dragging the heel of a shaking hand across her cheek, Agnes stopped short for a moment. Wait, that statement wasn’t completely true - there had been  _ one _ friendly face in the midst of it all. When even  _ Emil _ had turned, Doctor S’vec Sylar hadn’t. In fact, the elder man had been the only one who didn’t look away when Agnes walked into a room, and didn't try to strike up an awkward conversation when she noticed that. He’d treated her just the same, almost as if...almost as if nothing had happened at all. Suggesting she have some tea when she’d wandered absentmindedly into the mess hall five times in a row, replicated some dry biscuits for her when she’d looked too pale, asked her about her job whenever she seemed at a loss for what to say. (Not to mention the mind meld he’d performed to rid her of the memories Commodore Oh had put there, even if he did seem strange after it…)   
Sylar would help her now. She knew he was supposed to be emotionless and unempathetic but he’d never judged her before. He wouldn’t start now, would he? He  _ couldn’t. _   
Lips pinched together in an unhappy line, Agnes pressed her fingertips to her mouth, trying to calm down. She was doing well. Emil hadn’t activated, and no one had heard her. She would be okay; all she had to do was find Sylar and everything would be okay. Cold tears rolled down her cheeks and she squeezed her eyes shut, still trembling as she left her quarters, the stinging in her eyes making it hard to see properly.   



	2. Chapter 2

Ever since his own post-activation ordeal, Sylar had not felt quite...right. There were too many gaps in his memory, something which he knew better than to contest, considering what Rios had implied had happened. And so he had chosen to push away all thoughts of the matter in his usual way, focus instead on the captain - both professionally and...unprofessionally. They were married now, the Terran way, not that the former lack of that union had ever held them back. The Vulcan’s lips twitched up a mere fraction as he rounded the corner to return to Rios’ cabin.  
He had just finished assisting Emmett in the cargo hold (something which he’d insisted on doing despite being on leave), and planned to surprise the captain with the blueberry muffins he’d replicated on the way back, but then a slightly shorter figure collided with him, hard, sending the small box in his hands flying across the corridor.   
“Sorry!” Agnes Jurati blurted out loudly, stumbling backwards. “Fuck, I-I-I’m sorry, I’m so fucking stupid-” More tears welled up in her eyes and she lifted a hand to brush them away before they could fall, but Sylar got there first, carefully reaching out to cup his companion’s tear-streaked face, thumbs moving in one swift movement.. Though his expression was as impassive as always, his brow furrowed to the smallest degree as he regarded Agnes more closely.

“You are in distress, doctor” He started, but he didn’t get the chance to say anything more as Agnes pulled away from him only to wrap her arms about his waist, sobbing into his shoulder.

Taken aback, Sylar placed a gentle hand at the back of the young woman’s neck, a grounding touch. He knew a small amount of ways to comfort humans, and though he was still stiff when attempting them, that hardly stopped him from trying. He glanced up and down the corridor - it was empty, and Emil was nowhere in sight. Oh, that was right, four out of the five holograms were undergoing routine maintenance after beaming down to Coppelius earlier. It was inconvenient, but...then again, Agnes hadn’t had an easy time after she had neutralised the Romulan tracker, and even the holograms had given her the cold shoulder for a while. Perhaps the EMH’s current unavailability was for the best in this case, especially since it appeared that Agnes did not have any sort of physical injury that required treatment Sylar couldn’t give without proper equipment.  
“Can you lift up your legs?” Sylar asked now, shifting his grip to wrap his arm under the still-sobbing Agnes’ shoulders. “I will carry you to my quarters, as my analysis indicates that a trip to sickbay is not necessary.”

Only dimly aware of what Sylar was saying, Agnes shook her head, still clinging to the Vulcan’s jacket (she didn’t think she could stop crying, let alone do something that required focus or effort) but this did not seem to bother Sylar at all.   
One quick flick of the wrist and the younger doctor was comfortably cradled against the Vulcan’s chest as he turned back the way he came. From what he could tell, Agnes must be dehydrated and possibly hungry, even if she wasn’t feeling the need for nourishment just yet - two things which could easily be remedied - but it was the underlying cause of her breakdown of which he was uncertain. Though perhaps knowledge of the details was unnecessary to treat the effects, if Sylar’s experiences with Rios’ fluctuating mental states were any indication.

The Vulcan stepped through the door to his quarters, carefully setting Agnes down on the stripped bed before he tapped his combadge, sending the captain a quick message about completing something urgent which was likely to take a while. He could not leave his husband concerned in the wake of his delayed return, especially not when this situation was likely not a simple one.

Speaking of which...Sylar bit down on his tongue as his gaze flickered over Agnes’ now curled up, trembling form, and momentarily chastised himself for his lack of planning - he hadn’t expected this, and so did not return the covers and pillows to his bed to accommodate for someone who might need them (he never used them himself.) But it was of no consequence - he could do that later. For now, he needed to calm Agnes down.

Gently guiding the young woman to sit up again, Sylar removed his jacket, wrapping it around her shoulders before he crouched down in a very unVulcan-like fashion to meet her gaze properly.

“Doctor Jurati, I need you to listen to me” He said, dull blue eyes narrowed a mere fraction, and Agnes lowered her fingertips from her face, taking a gulp of air as she did so. 

“I’m sorry” She croaked out, but Sylar, somewhat confused, did not acknowledge the apology.  
“You are likely suffering from dehydration” He continued slowly “and I do not think that you have eaten in quite some time. I will replicate what you require, then assist you in washing your hair. I have found that such an action is physically soothing to your species, and will likely result in better sleep. I will not ask you to attempt a shower, as you appear too fatigued to do so safely.”   
Something about the Vulcan’s steady, unfaltering tone made Agnes’ trust in him increase, and she nodded, brushing away more tears before they could fall. She _did_ feel weak, and hungry, and a dozen other things, so it was a relief that Sylar already knew, and she didn’t have to tell him anything. She didn’t think she _could_ anyway, at least not without stumbling over her words and breaking off halfway through. Her mind wandered again as Sylar stepped over to the replicator and synthesised a glass of water, a small plate of apple slices and something in a small bowl, before he set them all down on the table and turned back to her.

Without being asked, Agnes got to her feet, trying to join him without stumbling too much. This took several minutes, as she was still shaking despite the fact that she was no longer crying (when exactly had she stopped? She wasn’t sure.)

And once he was sure that she was settled comfortably in one of the armchairs, Sylar sat down opposite her, ignoring the discomfort that sitting brought him - he was so used to standing in nearly every single situation, even to sleep, that this state of being was almost wholly alien to him now. But that was of no consequence, the Vulcan thought, as he watched his companion eat the apple slices and peanut butter. Colour was returning to Agnes’ pale cheeks, and it appeared she found the synthesised peanut butter to be adequate (Sylar had never eaten any himself and therefore had no frame of reference) so he stood up, deciding to take the chance to replace the bedsheets and pillows, methodically folding the corners and smoothing down every crease until the bed was in pristine condition again. 

In fact, he was so focused on his task that he didn’t notice Agnes standing just shy of his left shoulder, seeming slightly steadier than she had been several minutes ago.

“You don’t sleep?” She asked curiously, and Sylar quirked a brow.

“For the most part, I do not” He offered, surprised by the question. “However, when there is no other option, I do so in a vertical position.”

This made Agnes’ eyes widen slightly, before she wrapped his jacket tighter about her shoulders.

“Like the Borg? They have these regeneration chambers where they sleep standing up. It’s actually really weird but kind of awesome when you think about it.”  
Sylar’s own curiosity was piqued, but he wasn’t about to tire Agnes out by asking her about such an expansive subject, even if she appeared to have begun to regain her strength. Instead, he replaced the empty silverware in the replicator and indicated she follow him to the bathroom sink. “I simply decide on a corner” He said as he turned the water on, “ideally one closest to the door. It is from there that I can be at my most efficient, should the captain require it.”

“You’re...loyal” Agnes commented, taking a seat while Sylar rolled up his sleeves, gentle fingertips sliding into her hair. “I’ve seen dedicated people but you’re something different. I mean - I heard you didn’t care..” Agnes gestured impatiently with one hand. “ well, didn’t have emotions anyway.”

“Those two are not mutually exclusive, doctor” The Vulcan noted mildly, “though the way in which I _care_ , as you have put it, greatly differs from the conventional definition your people have. It is true that I cannot understand nor identify emotion as I should be capable of doing, but I am not without…” He paused to choose the correct Standard word. “...tact. At least I am not without tact sometimes. I do not understand the concept of it well enough to constantly employ it.”

“Oh. Well, you’re a lot more tactful than most people. You...didn’t ask me why I was crying.”

“The details of your personal life are not details to which I am entitled. Should you wish to share them, you will find me an attentive listener, but if you do not, that will not prevent me from extending aid to you.”

Agnes had to admit this answer shouldn’t surprise her, considering the fact that Vulcans didn’t generally tend to involve themselves in everything that happened around them, but she was surprised either way (maybe because she was tired?) and fell silent. Sylar’s experienced touch was making her eyes unintentionally close, allowing her to relax for the first time in a long time, and it was comforting. Agnes couldn’t remember the last time she’d let someone do something like this for her, someone she trusted not to hurt her or take advantage of her, but she trusted Sylar despite not knowing him that long - she couldn’t help it, he was steady and professional and didn’t make her feel though she was being scrutinised or judged (admittedly she’d been intimidated by him at first, but that was only because he had the sort of exterior that invited no questions.)  
In fact, the younger doctor was only pulled from her reverie when Sylar turned off the water and carefully removed his soaked jacket from her shoulders, placing it over the back of the chair once Agnes had vacated it. 

“The privilege of being First Officer is larger quarters located further away from other quarters” Sylar explained as he moved to take one of his own folded undershirts out of a drawer and handed it to Agnes, turning away so she could comfortably change out of her own presumably soaked top. “I would suggest you head back to your own cabin, but a change of scenery is often helpful when one is suffering from stress, regardless of the cause. This allows for a break in the routine, which will rejuvenate an exhausted mind. No one will bother you here, and you are welcome to remain for as long as you would prefer.”

Gratefully shrugging off her own shirt, Agnes shook her partially-wet curls out of her face. Sylar’s shirt smelled like incense, a warm, earthy scent that somehow reminded her of the desert, and she found that this was an interesting change from what she was used to.

“I don’t know how to thank you” She told the Vulcan, a half-laugh falling from her lips, but he did not respond to that, oddly enough.

“Sleep well when you are able, doctor” was all he said, though there was softness in his gaze before he turned and left, the darkness in the corridor outside swallowing him whole.


End file.
